


Flicker

by Trojie



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Apocalypse Fix-it, For the First Time in Forever, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 02:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first time Alex has been back to the mansion in ... god, it must be nearly fifteen years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flicker

'Alex Summers!'

It's been nearly fifteen goddamn years, and Hank holds out a hand for Alex to shake, uses his last name like he forgot it right up until this second. 

Alex wants to throw Hank's skinny, unfamiliar body up against the prissy wood panelling and do things to him until he has a _reason_ to have forgotten Alex's goddamn name. And his own, too. 

_Not in front of the children, thank you, Alex_ says the Professor in the back of his mind. He raises an eyebrow at Alex as he passes in his chair but he's smiling at the same time. Alex smiles back.

Fifteen fucking years. Nothing changes. 

***

Eventually the house settles down, the kids go to bed, and the adults are at a loose end. They talk, kind of. But there are so many things to skirt around, that it soon fades into warm silence. No-one wants to reminisce about Cuba, no-one wants to make small-talk about Vietnam, or Paris. All their friends are dead, or evil, and no, Alex doesn't want to volunteer things about why he's not in jail right now, the hoops he had to jump through after his discharge, the paperwork, any of it. He asks about the school, tells them about Scott, about how he's a good kid - _not like me, ha_ \- and the Professor tells him things he's probably supposed to take back and tell his parents, like class schedule and holidays. 

Scott will do okay here, Alex thinks. It's an actual school now. And Scott was always good at school. He keeps his nose clean. 

Hank excuses himself abruptly after a while, ducking his head like he's trying to hide something, and Alex waits a polite beat, trying to talk himself out of it - and then does the same. The Professor raises that eyebrow again, but this time he doesn't say anything at all. 

Alex follows Hank up some stairs and along a corridor and eventually they get to what must be the bedroom Hank is using now, in a part of the house that wasn't even opened up when they first landed up here. Hank goes in, but Alex freezes in the doorway, suddenly unsure. He wasn't exactly invited. He knows what he wants but he maybe he's not going to be allowed it. Fifteen years ago, maybe, but ... Maybe all those years and all that time he spent away, fighting, maybe Raven, maybe Sean - maybe things are between them now that mean he can't -

'Get in here,' says Hank, turning around, and that pretty baby face is melting away into blue. There's the Hank Alex remembers. 

He slams the door behind him. 

***

Alex's buttons are all over the floor, and he's all over the bed. 

There's blood in his mouth, just a smear, where Hank's fang caught his bottom lip. Too eager. Fifteen fucking years, man. Alex would vaporise his clothes in a second if he could, to get Hank's skin and fur all up against him. He digs his fingers in when Hank starts biting at the hinge of his jaw, fingernails cutting into the hard muscle of Hank's back. 'Fuck me,' Alex says, ripping at Hank's fly, shucking the remains of the shirt Hank half ripped off his body. 'Fuck me, Beast, c'mon. You know what I'm here for. It hasn't been that long, has it?'

Since long before Cuba and Vietnam, Alex has always done anything he can to lock down the shit inside himself, but Hank always used to crack him open, like he wanted to feel the things buried down deep in there. It hasn't been that long maybe but at the same time, it's been _so long_. As soon as Hank's naked Alex starts to turn over, ready. Burning for it, his heart a thumping, roiling mess of fire. 

But Hank stops him, hand to one shoulder, softer than Alex expects. 'Wait,' he says, and he bites softly at Alex's jaw. 'We never used to - dammit, Alex, I missed you. I want to see.'

Alex opens his mouth to -

'No. Don't tell me it's "not safe". _None_ of this is safe.' Hank holds up his fingers, wide and blue and tipped with claws.

'I can handle a few cuts and bruises,' Alex points out, reaching for Hank's hand and pulling it down to where he wants it. Those big blue fingers curl around his cock, and he shudders a little at the warning hint of a scrape. He always wanted it harder than Hank would ever give it to him. 'Not that you ever gave me any. You got this under control, you always did. From the start, man.'

Hank strokes Alex a couple of times, makes him squirm, but then lifts his hand back up and presses it firmly into the centre of Alex's chest, a cool, hard weight right where the plasma boils. 'So do you,' Hank says. 'You've got this, Alex. I trust you. I want to see your face. Please?'

He pushes, and this time Alex lets him, sinks breathlessly down to the mattress. Hank kisses him, sweeter and gentler than Alex remembers. It's a new, unfamiliar ache.

Hank kisses him again, and again, pulling away each time and coming right back like he can't make himself leave, square on the mouth, the corner of Alex's gasp-wide lips, his jaw, his pulse, the cords of his throat, the space between his collarbones, damp and warm, open-mouthed and just a tiny bit sharp. Alex can't help the soft noises he makes when Hank's tongue brushes his skin. 

Hank sucks his nipples, scrapes his fangs there deliberately but also gently, so goddamn gently. They've never done this, Alex always rolled over so fast. You never point a weapon at someone unless you're prepared to pull the trigger, and he - if he felt cracked open by Hank before he feels split apart now, completely out of control. He tries to push Hank away, but Hank won't go anywhere but down.

'Stop - God, stop fucking teasing me,' Alex growls, but it's high and weak. 'Hank, dammit, get away from there -'

He wants to say _get away from me_ but his traitor mouth won't force the words out.

Hank ignores Alex's hands and bites Alex's hip, properly, teeth and all, and it's a burning rush that makes Alex jerk with his whole body. Hank puts Alex's cock in his mouth as soon as he's finished reminding Alex he has teeth, and the fingers he starts to work into Alex's ass are carefully used but there's no way they could not be brutal, not when Hank's staring up at him like he hung the goddamn moon as he uses them. 

There's a chasm in Alex, there's always been this goddamn fucking hole in him that let the fire boil out, and everything he knows says Hank should get out of the way now, fucking _now_ before Alex vaporises him, because he is not in control of how he feels when he's like this. He never has been. Never. 

But Hank kneels up and whispers _shhhh_ at him, fits his mouth gently to Alex's and kisses the protest out of him, then slides his hands under Alex's hips, lifts til Alex's ass is resting on his big, solid, warm thighs, and nudges the wide head of his cock into the space he's found for himself in there. Just the very barest tip of it. 

Alex might literally explode.

His knees clamp to Hank's waist. He breathes, and it's an effort. And he tries to pull his arms in, cross them in front of himself like that's any kind of barrier but Hank pulls them away, pins his wrists.

'You know what the odds are on us dying any given day of the week?' he growls. 'I do. But this isn't how it's going to be. And if you -' his voice splinters '- if you aren't going to be here again, then I want to be able to kiss you, while I do _this_.' His mouth is warm, soft, smile-curved against Alex's throat when he shoves himself in to the root. 

Alex bites his lip in shock.

'Jesus, Hank,' he breathes. His back arches without his say-so, sliding him further up the ramparts of Hank's body, pulling him in. He tries to pull his wrists free but they're caught too tight. He can't do anything but take it - but let Hank take it - be fucked and be kissed and be smiled at. Be cracked open. Be loved. 

He comes embarrassingly fast, curled up so tight in the shadow of Hank that his mess ends up over his own throat, and Hank growls like the animal he could never really be and licks it off, and pumps his hips once twice three five seven nine however many fucking times into Alex before he comes too.

For just a moment, or a year maybe, or, who even knows, the burning core of Alex dims to a warm, sated flicker. 

When he blinks back to himself, Alex is a sloppy mess, with Hank's come in his ass and his plasma back to pulsing in his veins. It's a warm, slow pulse, though. And Hank's still half on top of him and if Alex was a braver man he'd make some comment about purring, but he's not that brave. 

***

The next time Alex wakes up it's in a crater, with about twenty-five kids staring down at him in shock. He blinks at them. 'Who died?' he says, and coughs up what feels like about a metric ton of soot.

'Uh,' says a girl in a yellow raincoat. 'We thought you did.'

Alex pulls at the tatters of the coat he was wearing, and looks critically at the burn marks. 'It'd take more than a fireball to get rid of me.'

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, but whoever decided that the cast at the end of X-Men: Apocalypse had to match the cast at the start of X-Men can fucking bite me. They can pry Alex Summers from my cold, dead hands.


End file.
